


The ballad of the light bringer

by ninthdreamie



Series: the squirrel and his dearest acorn [20]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s) by 2 Years, Allusions to Religion (Mostly Catholicism), Alternate Universe - Demons, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Violence, Bullying, Inspired by Stephen King's Carrie and Lady Gaga's You & I, M/M, Minor Character Deaths, Morally Ambiguous Character, Na Jaemin-centric, Non-Linear Narrative, Past Physical & Verbal Abuse, Religious Guilt, Romance & Horror, Temporary Main Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:22:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27190357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninthdreamie/pseuds/ninthdreamie
Summary: If there only wasn’t a certain someone, he would’ve kissed that place goodbye and made his way in another city instead like any other person in the world who wants their past behind them. Except that he isn’t really a person, and that’s the thing actually.He has someone to come back to.Jaemin is a demon still haunted by his past, but that's what makes him come back for Jeno.
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin
Series: the squirrel and his dearest acorn [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1050548
Comments: 11
Kudos: 49
Collections: NCT Spookfest 2020





	The ballad of the light bringer

**Author's Note:**

> hello to you! i hope you read the tags before clicking on this. if you didn't, i'm telling you to read it again. if you don't want to continue, it is okay! if you're here to stay, then that's okay too! i have done research on the religious aspects of this fic while also applying my knowledge of catholicism, and the only thing i kinda modified here is how demons are, just had to put it out there.
> 
> firstly, i would like to thank [my twin](https://twitter.com/derymeows) for being the beta of this monster, and also for being very supportive about it. i want to thank my scene kid phase that never really died and lady gaga, since they helped me make the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3dHEJu43Vd0gg5eSQ9iBa2) of this fic. i also want to thank the mods of nctspookfest for showing up in my twt tl, for being the final push to make me post this fic (and my markhyuck fic too). finally, i want to thank stephen king for writing one of my faves, carrie.
> 
> i will ramble more by the end notes, but again, please proceed with caution! look at the tags again! enjoy!

Jaemin opens his eyes again, to the clear and sunny sky of their small town. Thank god the sun isn’t too bright to hurt his eyes, so he can look into it without squinting too much. There is just so much to admire about the place that they are currently in, and it’s a pity that they have to leave before the solar system’s biggest star sets.

He wants to stay here a little longer, and if only it was possible, forever. But he can’t have all the nice things so long as there are eyes watching his every move and every word, so long as there are mouths telling him that he can’t get acquainted with the darkness in his age.

But why can twelve year olds like him go out with their friends? Why can’t he?

“You really cannot stay a little longer?”

A soft voice interrupts his thoughts, and so he rests his elbows on the ground, looking at the one keeping him company at the moment. His hair is bouncing as he runs around the meadow, his soft hands trying to get a hold of the flowers with his quick movements, the heat tinting his skin pink.

What he is seeing too strengthens the want in him to stay and play around more. Oh, if only he could run away, with his best friend.

Sadly, he shakes his head as he fully sits up, holding the golden crucifix that’s linked to the chain on his neck. He can feel the pads of his fingers stinging the more he touches it, but that’s not going to stop him from holding it until he doesn’t wince.

“I have to go soon.” Jaemin softly mutters as he looks up at the sky again, seeing that it is shifting to a darker shade of blue, tainting the puffy clouds in the process. The sun looks like it’s about to color itself red too, but he can see hints of orange.

He would have loved to see the sky changing if it didn’t also mean having to say a temporary goodbye.

“Then get home safe so I don’t get sad.” His best friend replies with a pout, surrounding himself with the flowers. Jaemin likes to think that he looks ethereal right at that moment; a pretty person surrounded with God’s pretty creations.

At the back of his mind, he wonders if he’s just as pretty too, in that way. He doesn’t entertain it even further though.

“I’ll go then.” Jaemin is now patting the dirt off his shorts and shirt, his fingers able to breathe now that he isn’t fumbling with the cross he wears. “See you when I see you, Jeno.”

And with that, he runs out of the forest, paying no mind to how he is faster than a wild deer that nearly blocked his way. He pays no mind to anything but the sting in his heart, aware that he wanted to be anywhere but home.

When he gets back home, he is greeted with hugs and kisses, and then things flow easily like routine. They do the sign of the cross and pray before and after they have dinner, worship songs in the radio are what fill their ears, and just acknowledge that God is everywhere in the household.

Knowing that God is everywhere gives him a whole other level of discomfort he can’t comprehend. And he expresses that again before he prepares for bed, only for his mom to silence him so abruptly, making him jump a little.

“You’re still young,” his mom said for the nth time as she pets his hair. If he grew old enough to be able to have children himself, he’ll fully understand the reason why they want him to stay home more and go out less, and why he has to be thankful to God for existing.

It’s as if all the religious icons in their home are scrutinizing him at that very moment, and it intensifies the discomfort. He is promised again that they’ll explain everything when he’s older.

Jaemin is afraid that by the time he comes of age, he still won’t understand what they mean.

*

If the younger version of himself was in front of him right now, if only he has the ability to _summon_ someone from his mind like Haechan does, he would be doing that now. He is bored to death and cannot wait any longer to get on the road and go back to his sweet hometown.

Yes, that last sentence was meant to be sarcastic. If there only wasn’t a certain someone, he would’ve kissed that place goodbye and made his way in another city instead like any other person in the world who wants their past behind them. Except that he isn’t really a person, and that’s the thing actually.

He has someone to come back to.

“What’s gotten you so mopey?” Jaemin quickly looks up from the rubik’s cube he has been disassembling and assembling for hours now, only to see that fucking face. “Can’t wait to push your little reunion project?”

The teasing tone in Johnny’s voice is the last thing he wants right now, it ticks him off. He grimaces as he starts throwing the object he’s controlling to his face. He groans when he catches it thanks to his inhuman reflex.

When Jaemin calms down and chooses to let his mind wander, all of the objects in their motel room begin to float, which pleases Johnny of course. “So you’re meditating to cope with your longing.” He comments as he closes the door, gently pushing away the floating tattered clothes blocking his way.

“What else am I supposed to do?” Jaemin retorts but there’s no actual bite to it. In fact, he sounds like he is about to cry. He chooses not to go further, swallowing the lump down his throat as a floating polaroid that Johnny probably owns comes across his line of vision. “I know it’s going to take time, I just have to wait for Chenle to give me the signal.”

Johnny nods along, a smirk on his face as he busies himself with his phone. “Hang on a little, kiddo,” He tells him kindly. “But be a little discreet about this. We can’t have Satan knowing you’re still after someone from a life you said you left behind.”

That’s what he has been doing since last year, _hanging on_. He’s getting tired of it.

“I know,” Jaemin mutters, letting his upper body rest on top of his own mattress. He knows that once Satan finds out, he will drag him from below the ground and he won’t hear the end of it, so he has to not let him enter his mind at all costs.

But as he thinks he’s close to setting every object on fire, his phone rings. Keeping his expectations low, Jaemin grabs it from his side and puts it close to his face.

A text message from Chenle tells him that _it’s time_. Jaemin’s mood immediately changes, and it’s written all over his pretty face.

*

Supposedly, the crucifix is his shield from otherworldly forces that are out to get him and everyone else. It is sacred because it has Jesus Christ on it, and the said persona of the trinity died to save everyone from their sins, and it has already been blessed by the Church even before he was born. It was supposed to mean something good and holistic.

However, why is it making his skin burn?

“Just tell her to let you wear some rosary bracelet instead.” Renjun tells him one sunny afternoon as he munches on his sandwich for lunch. “The necklace is clearly giving you allergies.”

Jaemin scratches the area around his neck and collarbones, until it gets so red it looks like it’s going to bleed if he lets his nails scrape his skin a few more times. “You know my mom won’t let that happen even if she knows I get rashes.”

“Your parents _scare_ me, Jaem,” Renjun comments. As much as Jaemin wants to disagree, he hates that he is right.

His mom has told him to wear it at all times, so he does, painfully so. The only time he ever gets to take it off is when he takes a shower. It is why he has taken a liking to staying in the bathroom for longer periods of time, much to the disapproval of his irritable father.

Truthfully speaking, the cross necklace looks pretty. But if he had a choice, he would never wear it, since it appears like the charm is going to set him on fire.

When he thought that the rashes won’t get any worse, a day after his uneventful thirteenth birthday came.

“Something’s bothering you again,” Jeno’s voice stops him from fully spacing out during math class, and he almost jumps out of his seat due to the shock. Jaemin frantically looks around before turning back to him, sporting a tight-lipped smile. “And why does your skin look weird?”

“Huh?”

That’s when he feels the itch and the sting getting worse. So he looks downwards, only for his jaw to drop when he sees the crucifix being surrounded by small flames, making his skin decay and his favorite shirt burn. Jaemin doesn’t stop himself from letting out a scream, finally falling backwards with his chair as he struggles to get a hand on the chain.

Jeno tries to get a hold of his arms as he starts thrashing around like a baby, screaming for someone to take it off of his neck. He interrupts the class as he does so, making the rest of their classmates surround them cautiously to check what is going on.

“Why is he suddenly getting burned?” A classmate asks as the smoke begins to fill the air as his shirt gets burned to shreds, and their math teacher’s out to get the nearest fire extinguisher.

“That’s crazy.” Another one exclaims as the fire gets bigger, and it spreads to Jaemin’s stomach.

“This is fucking _weird_.”

_Crazy_. Is he crazy? Is what is happening to him crazy? Does this mean this really happens to no one? Jaemin has no time to think of how to go about this, he has to take it off. _Take it off, it’s hurting you_ is what only fills his mind as he gets his hands on the chain and tears it off.

Another scream comes out of his mouth when he feels his neck getting scratched by the chain. Eventually he starts to sob heavily when he throws the necklace away, and the fire spreading through his torso dies out so quickly.

He can feel the burn around his neck and what seems to be a feeling similar to that of being strangled, and it’s too much that it might linger for a week. Is this even supposed to be normal? He can hear gasps from the other students, telling each other that the necklace isn’t hurting them.

Jaemin gets embraced by Jeno when his body starts to shake, instinctively curling his body against his and staying there until a couple more teachers come to help him get up, when they don’t see fire anymore.

He refuses to be held by them though as he reaches out, trying to grab a hold of Jeno, but it’s too late. He gets carried to who knows where in the school, and he just gives up in the midst of it, at least feeling relieved now that he doesn’t have to wear that harmful necklace.

_What kind of parents give their child something that hurts them?_ It’s the question that fills his mind as he lies on the only bed in the infirmary, his eyes focused on the dull white ceiling. He is relieved that he hasn’t died, but he is in great need of answers.

So Jaemin tries to ask his mom and dad about it when they pick him up from school. The answers he received are stone cold stares that probably hurt more than the fire that nearly consumed his body. They don’t give him comfort. They stopped showering him with affection.

They keep him in the dark about it, like everything else before this. Jaemin is left to let his mind go in circles about what he did wrong, until he turns to God. He asks Him for a reason why the necklace hurts him.

But God keeps him in the dark too, unsurprisingly.

*

They may be one of the many that makes the antichrist, the ones that God in the Bible have long prophesied, but if one were to ask Jaemin on who fits the title the most he’d say that it’s Johnny.

In a way, they all have the traits that the Bible has said for them to have, but Johnny is just the personification of mercilessness. It is proven with the sound of a neck that’s been broken and a stench of blood that he isn’t interested to have a taste of right now.

“Are you done?” Jaemin asks as he looks at all the rings he wore just for this trip alone, his broad back facing the mess that his companion willingly put himself in. He tries not to cringe upon hearing him lick the blood off his fingers, but he holds it in so he doesn’t have to be the next target of Johnny’s bloodlust.

“Yep, sorry. Here’s the car, it has enough gas.”

Jaemin finally turns around, his white blond hair blown by the wind in the process. He smirks in satisfaction upon seeing the dent-free black convertible, not concerned that it belongs to someone he somehow killed.

Not wanting to get blood in his hands and clothes, he lets his mind carry their victim out of the path leading to the driver’s seat, almost throwing them away.

“Thanks, John. I hope I get to see you soon.” He does a salute gesture of some sort as he gets in the car, one hand on the steering wheel and one on the key, twisting it to the right. He hums when he hears the engine come alive.

“Make it quick,” Johnny waves at him through the rearview mirror. “You better bring him with you when you come back.”

The enthusiasm coming from him makes him forget the other possibility too, _almost_. “And if I don’t?” Jaemin makes the question linger, not expecting an answer.

Johnny snickers as he crouches to get on the corpse’s level, ready to have a full meal. “Too bad, then.” Jaemin nods at his answer.

With a wave of his hand, he drives off into the dark and secluded road.

So this is what Haechan must have meant before, that driving eases your mind. Jaemin controls the wheel with ease as he passes through the many trees, his eyes only focused on what’s ahead. He cannot believe he is causing his own mind to suffer, he’s unbelievable.

But can anyone blame him? Entertaining the what ifs is easy, it’s like digging your own grave.

What if he goes back only to return to his fellows achieving nothing? What if he never gets to have a glimpse of his face? What if he comes back only to find out that he has moved someplace else to never be found again? What if he’s dead?

It is possible. After all, Chenle warned him that he has only gathered vague information from people, that he is still in town. He is yet to see his face, however.

Jaemin wonders when this road’s ever going to end, breaking trees with his mind. He stops though, and works hard to let his mind wander on the brighter possibilities instead. It gets to the point that he almost summons a clone of him on the passenger seat, content with trying to grasp the cold air in his hands.

But he doesn’t let it happen and grounds himself, because to have things go his way for once is unrealistic.

*

Ever since he turned fourteen, he noticed a shift in his home...if it ever was one from the moment he was born.

Way back, he would receive hugs and kisses from his mother the moment he opens his eyes, which he loved. Now all he gets is an icy glare from her as soon as he gets up from bed, and he isn’t sure if his eyes are deceiving him, but her fists often seem to be clenched.

He thought that this time he would lean more on his less expressive yet still loving father, but he acts like her too. What hurts the most is that he stopped looking his way since who knows when, almost as if convincing himself that his son doesn’t exist.

And this makes Jaemin think that he was probably still in the confines of his mind, that he would wake up from this nightmare.

Unfortunately, the life he is living is not a dream.

Jaemin accepts this harsh and unforgiving reality when he comes home one night, almost not reaching curfew just to have one last hangout with Renjun before he moves out of town. He hurriedly kicks the door to a close while trying not to cry over the fact that he’ll see him less, startling his parents.

It is a mannerism of his in the household to kick doors to a close. His parents used to be okay with it, brushing it off even. But before he can let them know of his presence, his mom starts stomping down the stairs, shouting at him. His dad comes from the kitchen too doing the same, and it doesn’t ease the sadness making his head heavy at that moment.

He doesn’t register whatever they’re saying through the harsh voices, head still on the memory of Renjun promising him that he won’t forget him. He looks around, trying to find an object that can at least maintain his sanity.

Everything is happening too fast, and his brain’s on overdrive, screaming at him to get his shit together. His eyes land on one of the many altars their home has, it is just within his reach.

Just as he was going to have a grip on it, the altar then flies elsewhere, and they all scream before it gets quiet.

Again, everything is happening too fast. Jaemin’s hands are still shaking trying to look where it went, but his parents begin to carry his body, their grip on him too tight that it makes him whimper for them not to touch him. They carry him like they’re going to burn him alive in their fireplace, and the thought alone drains all the color in his face.

They bring him to the living room—specifically, their prayer area. They don’t walk him there like the loving and caring parents he knows them to be. They _throw_ him so hard that he lands on his knees, that he is forced to bow in front of their icons of the Virgin Mary and a young Jesus Christ.

For some reason, Jaemin loathes this feeling. He hates it so much that tears start to fall from his eyes, and it stains their carpet.

“Maybe if you pray to God a little more, you won’t go down the wrong path.” She harshly throws a rosary to his lowered head, like she’s trying to repel him through the action. Jaemin still has no idea what she means; he just hung out with his friend.

“ _Always_ come home before six, and pray the five mysteries of each day. Understood?”

They never really explained to him why he should increase his praying. What mattered to them is that he had to just _pray_ and _stay at home_ , and that’s what he did ever since. Jaemin tried to find peace and comfort in the Lord, tried to put meaning in every single Our Father, Hail Mary, and Glory Be. He tried so hard, he really did.

He didn’t want to be held like that by his parents again, didn’t want them to hurt him again. Out of fear, he tried to be the good boy they wanted him to be, yet it didn’t seem enough. They continued to hit him and curse his existence every time he came home, and he didn’t know what he did to deserve such treatment.

Like always, he’s kept in the dark.

But at some point, he had enough. He had to stop being a fucking crybaby in front of the icons and pray with dignity. He stopped looking for peace and comfort in Him. He stopped trying to make every prayer, especially the Apostle’s Creed and Hail Holy Queen, have a personal meaning for him. He simply recited them because they recited it in school anyway.

Gradually, he started looking at the altars and icons that were all over their home with nothing but spite, wanting to crush them all and make them angry. He started to be hostile towards his parents too, knowing he didn’t have their love anymore.

Deep down, he wanted to hurt them too.

That violent thought goes away for a while when a certain someone started making himself feel at home on the roof of his house, during hours where everyone is asleep. Jaemin would know it’s him when he knocks on his window, since the attic is his space. He has been in his house when they were younger, anyway.

The very first time he ended up on the roof, it began with a “Hello, are you busy?” Jaemin jolted at the noise and almost cursed, but he stopped himself before letting it out. Not wanting any other disturbance, he immediately opened the window to tell the trespasser to go away, but the words die in his throat as soon as he sees his face.

Gosh, even as Jeno is surrounded less by light, he is still such a dream to look at. Rather than the moon lighting everything up, it is him doing its supposed job.

Jaemin fondly recalls how the first time went as he made his spread out arm his headrest. They never got to watch the stars together when they were younger, but ever since Jeno started climbing his way to his roof, that has changed.

To him the stars are like his old friends now, but that doesn’t mean he’ll stop gazing at them with intent, murmuring his wishes to be out of their town repeatedly. It’s what Jaemin does again, and Jeno listens without saying anything.

Afterwards, they don’t talk much, but it’s okay. It’s in these hours does Jaemin finally get to _breathe_ , away from the eyes of his parents. Jeno doesn’t talk much, so they can spend some nights knowing that they have each other close in some way.

But for tonight, Jaemin just wants him to listen. “Can I rant?”

Jeno looks away from the stars, his glittery orbs looking into his own. “Go ahead.”

He gulps when his gaze goes downwards, from his eyes to his full lips. He makes sure he doesn’t look there for too long, or else he’ll feel blood go to his cheeks.

“I don’t feel like I belong here anymore.”

The confession comes off as a whisper, and a mix of emotions are written all over Jaemin’s face. He didn’t want to verbalize it, because as much as he hates the treatment he gets from his parents, he still loves them dearly. Or maybe the love he is feeling is just _fear_ now, maybe.

Jaemin is at a loss for words, and he isn’t too sure on how to continue. He stops frowning though when Jeno runs his thumb through the creases on his forehead, sporting a soft smile.

“It’s okay, just say what you want to say.” The reassurance makes Jaemin realize that he has been holding in his breath ever since he has been here, and when he finally sighs, he starts to appear vulnerable. The moon exposes the quickly healing blemishes on his skin that indicates he’s being harmed; it’s likely he won’t see it.

He realizes too that this is the _peace_ he stopped asking from the Lord long ago. Who knew that it would be given to him by Jeno, of all people?

“Thank you,” He whispers before moving closer, resting his face on the place between his neck and shoulder, clutching onto Jeno’s shirt like how he would hold a Rosary bead before. Jaemin lets the weakest side of him show as he tells him the same thing, and the more painful it sounds, he is held tighter.

Since then, he stopped feeling peace in his supposed religion and his household, and started to feel them whenever Jeno was around instead.

*

It’s been hours since he left the motel he and Johnny occupied, and he isn’t so sure of what time it is already. What he is sure of though is that he is finally here, since he sees the broken streetlights. _Home sweet home_ , he sarcastically greets as he spins the wheel to the left.

So much has changed since he died here; he can see that they have changed the roads. They made it stronger, and the thought makes Jaemin laugh. He spares glances at the people very much awake within these hours, an idea popping up his head.

What if he made the ground shake, for fun? What if he caused an earthquake? He can just do it with the snap of a finger if he wanted to, make the tectonic plates shake so much just so he can hear humans scream, so that he can feel something.

Maybe if he did that, he would catch him easily amongst the people residing here. He knows better than to do that, however.

To this town, he is as good as dead, and he wants it to stay that way.

As Jaemin continues driving, he recalls the last time he has been here. It wasn’t pretty at all; he has brought so much damage to many, literally and figuratively. It’s been six years since that night, ever since he lashed out on everyone and everything.

If only beings like him had the ability to wipe out a string of memories, he would have done so all these years ago.

_“But if it weren’t for those memories, you wouldn’t look for him now.”_

The voice interfering with his thoughts makes him stop the car. He knows that voice; the question is a matter of where he is. Jaemin keeps on looking around while one hand is still on the steering wheel, searching for him among the many groups coming out of a club.

When he spots him, he waves his hand with a sly smile.

Chenle just nods back at him, wearing a thick grey hoodie and holding an unfinished bottle of beer with one hand. That must have been his disguise because he isn’t the only one searching for him too.

_“Good luck,”_ Chenle speaks again in his head once Jaemin is back to looking at himself in the rear-view mirror.

_“Thanks,”_ Jaemin responds as he runs his hand through his blond locks for the last time before driving around again, instead recalling the few good memories he had of this place.

*

Everyone’s talking about homecoming, and as much as he wants to be excited with them, he couldn’t bring himself to. For him unfortunately, he’ll have to spend the night in his home praying and eating dinner and sleeping his boredom away. It isn’t a big deal to him supposedly since he is used to it.

Thank god his parents have stopped hitting him since he turned sixteen.

But Jeno makes every night bearable, as usual. The possibility of him going to homecoming with someone else on the other hand makes his stomach twist painfully. Jaemin knows damn well he shouldn’t be feeling this way though; they are best friends, and he should wish nothing else for him but the best.

His greatest desires beg to differ, but he’d rather die than entertain them. Without holding very high expectations, he manages to get through days of school, trying his very best to ignore the green feelings simmering inside him and the constant bullying from his classmates.

On a particular Tuesday though, as he taps his fingers on a chair he saved for Jeno to sit on in the cafeteria, the green feelings nearly get the best of him when he sees him open the door. That wasn’t just what he saw though.

Jaemin catches the flowers and letters he received from many of the people wanting him to be their homecoming date, and he fakes a smile when he sits next to him. Jeno doesn’t notice the bad aura he is giving off even as they are sitting next to each other, too busy admiring the roses.

And as much as Jaemin wants to show how pissed he is, he can’t bring himself to. Not when he is so pretty and is surrounded by pretty things, like those roses.

Two days and one night passed after that, and their schoolmates just wouldn’t shut the fuck up about other people’s businesses, so he isn’t surprised to hear them gossip about Jeno.

“Has he said yes to someone already?”

“He rejected them all.”

“I hope that the one he chooses as his homecoming date is just as good as him.”

_Good_ , huh? Jaemin enters his classroom, holding his books tighter as he quickly makes his way to his seat, not wanting to get the attention of the people who won’t let him live.

His classmates seem to have other plans when he hears them cackle, and someone counting from one to three. Jaemin breathes in, trying to keep it together. If these dickheads choose to test his already thinning patience, he will not hesitate to—

“Good morning, church boy!”

Just as he turns around to look at them, the edge of a freshly sharpened pencil nearly stabs his eye. _Nearly_ , because the object seems to have defied gravity and his classmates look like they want to scream for help. Jaemin’s eyes widened in horror, his heart in his throat, when he watched it fall to the floor in slow motion.

This is not the first time some object moved like this around him. Before he can ask them who did it, Cheolmoo points at him with his index finger. “He’s a freak!”

_**He’s the one who threw it at you**_ , someone whispers in his head.

Jaemin is at a loss. He is the _freak?_ Since when has he been one? He is perfectly normal. Cheolmoo threw the object at him. There is nothing wrong with him. He isn’t a freak. He is a well-adjusted individual, like every other person in the classroom.

“Jaemin Na is a _monster_!” Chungho pipes in.

He runs out of the classroom before he knows it, going to the nearest comfort room and hiding in one of the cubicles. The words freak and monster circle his mind until he gets tired of letting his thoughts influence his emotions, and he stops.

_He’s a freak!_

_**No you’re not.** _

Jaemin doesn’t know the other voice speaking, but he doesn’t think about it. He tightens his grip on his book and his backpack as he does so, still hellbent that what he witnessed before his eyes wasn’t his doing.

Suddenly, he hears the door to the comfort room open. “Jaemin, are you in there?” It’s Ms. Park, one of the school’s guidance counselors. It’s as if the corners of the cubicle start to close in around him, and he’s gasping for air, needing space.

As much as he wants to let her know of his presence, he can’t. He just can’t.

_Jaemin Na is a monster!_ Were his parents right all along? Did he need to pray a little more to not get down the wrong path? Did he have to seek the Lord’s guidance because this is what’s going to happen to him?

_**They’re wrong.** _

There are so many more questions, yet he can’t find an answer for all of them. Wanting to get out, Jaemin closes his eyes, his senses are getting more and more sensitive that he can hear a car honking from his left. Still, he doesn’t move.

What happens after opening his eyes is that he’s in the middle of the street, still holding on to his things. The car speeds up and he turns to it, watching its hood get dented and it being pushed back so hard the driver could’ve fallen off if they didn’t wear their seatbelt.

He gets cursed at for blocking the road, some tremble upon what they just saw, but that is not what matters. He runs off until he reaches his house, and for now, this is where he will be until he figures everything out.

Jaemin kicks the door to a close once he’s inside, and the religious items they have start to float all at once. Astonished and scared by what he is doing, he mumbles, “Make it stop.”

Upon his command they all stop resisting gravity at the same time, falling, making every corner of the house emit a loud _thud._

*

He has been driving around for thirty minutes, and he’s pleased to know that no one has recognized him yet. On the other hand, he’s disappointed that he hasn’t seen a piece of him. Anyway, he needs a drink right this instant.

Maybe if he drinks, he will think of its taste more and worry of his whereabouts less. He knows that his state of being will never get him shitfaced drunk like every single fragile human out there, but that doesn’t mean he won’t stop trying to get intoxicated.

And even if he’s here to look for him, the many other things he associates with this town is going to make him puke. He needs to hold it in with a few shots of tequila.

Jaemin parks the convertible by a not so crowded bar, and leaves its doors locked with the key as he enters. A dark space full of flashing lights and people giving in to the rhythm. It brings bittersweet memories.

*

It’s been days since he discovered that he is special, in the worst way possible. He has lost track of time since then.

When he made sure his mind and emotions were stable enough not to cause anything to break within the household, Jaemin started to look up on his abilities through the phone he keeps safely under his bed, initially confused because it had many names.

All that he knows is that his mind is able to manipulate the state of objects; he can make them float and go anywhere he wishes them to go, and he can break them.

It took him a long time to acknowledge that he is a psychokinetic, someone who can move any form of matter with his mind. The sources he read through tell him that this ability exists mostly in fiction, but there are individuals in real life who possess it too.

Jaemin scrolls down the types of individuals who have acquired this ability, and perhaps he is just making up things, but he can hear some kind of hole trying to swallow him in upon this particular type.

_Demon._

There is a ring to it. Before he can search further, he keeps his phone again so his parents won’t have to get mad.

Since then, he continuously pushed the idea away. Because of this, he finds himself genuinely praying again in front of the icons he was so sure he detested, hoping that maybe God will provide an answer to at least one of his questions. It’s not that he believes them; he’s just desperate for an answer.

Until now, he is waiting for some sign within the attic, covering most of his body with his blankets. He tries his very best to stabilize his mind, not wanting to make anything move and most of all, not increase his parents’ suspicions with it.

Just as he thinks that God will continue leaving him in the dark again, he hears another knock on his closed window. Jaemin stays still on his bed.

“Nana.” _Fuck_ , his senses are heightening. Back then he could never hear voices this clearly, but now he can even feel him move a little on the roof. “Can you come out? I missed you.”

He curses under his breath, feeling his knees buckle at how sweet he sounds even if he’s lying down. He can’t believe he’s feeling so weak for this one boy. Why is he like this?

“You don’t have to though, if you’re not in the mood. I just hope you’re okay in there.”

Jaemin faces a crisis within him by then. Should he stay on the roof with him or continue waiting for a sign like he planned? Should he continue to wait or stay on the roof with him like always? What should he do?

_Think quick_ , he tells himself when he starts to feel his bed rise from the floor. He takes a look at the window, and then the picture of the Holy Family by his working desk. _Think quick_ , he reminds himself again when he stares at the window.

And to no one’s surprise, the bed isn’t affected by his mind anymore. He shakes off his blanket and opens the window, relief rushing through his veins when he feels the cold air hit his face. He climbs out and Jeno’s arms reach out to help him sit easily on the rough tiles, which he is incredibly grateful for.

“Hello,” He greets once he is properly seated, ignoring his hands itching to have a hold of him.

“I thought I wasn’t gonna see you tonight.” Jeno replies, his hand gently pinching his cheek. With this, Jaemin realizes that for the first time in his seventeen years of existence, something is finally making sense.

*

It is probably the only thing in his life that still continues to make sense.

Jaemin takes the shot that was just served to him, gulping it down and hoping that the bitterness gets to him in some way. When he places the glass back on the counter though, the spike that comes with it quickly fades, and then he is feeling nothing again.

No matter how much he tries, even the strongest of alcohol will not make him waver. He looks over to the very drunk woman next to him, babbling about how her boyfriend cheated on him to whoever wanted to listen, and how she hopes his dick gets cut off. She then bursts into tears again, and slams her head on the counter, which shocks the bartender and everyone else...but him.

“Another one, please.” He calls the bartender over with a tight-lipped smile, nudging his shot glass to him with his knuckles.

With no warning, the woman wails about how she loves her boyfriend regardless of his biggest mistake, and if he wasn’t someone in love, he would have laughed at her. Maybe this is why Johnny, Chenle, Haechan, and the rest of the antichrist still treat him like a baby, because he still has retained his humanity.

And since he still has his humanity retained, that means he is dumber than the rest. To think that he still chooses to feel a weakening emotion like love...Jaemin thinks that he really is something else.

“Who wouldn’t risk it all for love?” She asks whoever is listening, and at the same time, his glass is filled to the brim again. Jaemin thanks the bartender with a nod, and then he puts the glass close to his lips.

“I would,” He answers her question with a murmur, and takes it all in one gulp.

*

“I heard you ran out of the classroom because something happened.”

Jaemin hugs his knees close to his chest, observing the children still playing around under the night sky. “It’s a long story.” He tries to dismiss it with just those four words, but he knows that Jeno is curious and concerned.

He does not react when he asks, “Do you want to talk about it? Or do you _not_ want to?”

Deep inside, he wants to tell him everything that has happened involving his newfound abilities, including that incident that made him skip school lately. But he’s a bit scared of how he’ll react so he’ll keep it to himself. “Not now.” Jaemin turns to him, softly smiling. “I promise I’ll tell you soon.”

With that, the topic has been changed. Jaemin asks him how his day went, and in return he gets a story of how the admirers that gave him the pretty roses asked him again to homecoming during lunch. He was already bracing himself for heartbreak, but Jeno tells him that he rejected them, which makes him unconsciously let out a sigh of relief.

In return, he tells Jeno a more filtered version of how his day went: basically he ate breakfast and lunch, kept sleeping, recited the Glorious Mysteries at six o’ clock sharp, and had potato salad for dinner. Also, his parents were eyeing him like he was some foreign entity like always, what is new.

He purposefully omits that he nearly broke the picture of The Last Supper in the living room, with a kitchen knife. He also does not tell him that his parents screamed at him while praying the Rosary earlier, that he has to pray _harder_.

Jeno listens to him through and through, running his hands through his curly brown locks as he does so. And when Jaemin finishes telling him about the good things only, he rests his head on Jeno’s shoulder, giving him the chance to put an arm around him, which he does.

The moon is shining brightly again tonight. He looks into it without having to squint, and the ambience that the satellite object brings makes him lean more onto Jeno, makes him feel vulnerable once again.

“What would you do if I was a monster?”

The question lingers in the air like the smoke from a cigarette. Jaemin is stunned at himself for asking it, and it makes the silence between them suddenly so unbearable. He shouldn’t have asked the question. He should’ve just shut up and enjoyed the brief moment of peace instead.

However, kind and sweet Jeno always seems to have an answer to his questions that are birthed from his lack of a brain-to-mouth filter. “First of all, not all monsters are bad.”

“What?”

“And it’s not like every monster wanted to be what they are.” Jeno adds, his arm around his shoulder now on his back. “I’ll still care for you.”

Jaemin looks at him like he had gone through a great chemical change in his body, and then he stops resting his head on his shoulder. “You’re kidding,” He huffs.

“You didn’t sound like you were joking, so I gave you my most sincere answer.” Jeno shrugs his shoulders, ignoring the alarm from his phone that he has to snooze.

Knowing that he was right, Jaemin doesn’t put up a fight. “Well. I didn’t expect you to take that question seriously.”

His embarrassment is translated through the redness of his cheeks and ears, his lower lip jutting out, and him refusing to make eye contact. Jeno chuckles at how cute he is, and proceeds to wrap his arm around his waist. This sudden gesture makes Jaemin want to scream for he has never been _this_ close physically, but he doesn’t tell him to let go.

A comforting silence starts to stretch between them, and Jeno makes sure that doesn’t last too long. “Even if that question of yours does come true, I’ll still care for you.”

The sentence warms Jaemin’s insides, and he can’t find it in him to fight the grin making its way to his face. Right as he thought the sweetness was going to end there, Jeno pops a question this time, and he almost lets things go out of control because of it.

“Jaeminnie, will you go to homecoming with me?”

Shock, that then turns into joy. In the most endearingly embarrassing way, he squeaks yes. When Jeno asks if he can kiss him and he lets him with a quickening heartbeat, that’s when he starts to make sense of something.

Jaemin realizes that as he gets his first kiss stolen, he wants to be with him for the rest of his life.

*

When he feels the demonic energy he has about to make the drunk lady and someone else start a cheap catfight, he pays for the shots he took and leaves before it can even happen. Jaemin keeps his head low when he walks out the door, seeing that in one of the many groups walking around, a seemingly okay Ms. Park passes by.

Jaemin appreciates that he has a very sharp memory, but now that he has seen a familiar face, he starts to regret having such a trait. God, he doesn’t want to meet anyone else here but him.

Could he even still be here somewhere?

He gets in the car again and lets his hands on the steering wheel take him where they want to go as soon as he turns the engine on. The breeze gets colder when he realizes that he is on a very familiar road.

Back then, the lamp posts here were functioning very well, but now the convertible’s headlights are the only things shedding light to this nearly empty street. Since he is well-acquainted with the darkness, he continues to drive forward, hoping that the third to the last house on the right still has someone living there.

When he brakes right beside the said house, the high hopes that he has been having since the moment he came back are crushed, nearly dissolving into nothingness.

There was a piece of wood hanging on the front door of the place, indicating that the space is _**FOR SALE**_. The flowers that used to liven up the front yard of his home have already withered, the petals and stems going limp with the untrimmed grass.

At the back of his mind, he tells himself to give up and go to wherever Johnny, Chenle, and Haechan are waiting. He tells himself that he came back for nothing, that through these six years, he must have stopped waiting and moved on.

However, Jaemin is not one to give up. He has a lot more time in his hands than before, and he will spend it to find him again.

It is what he promised that night, after all.

*

The night after Jeno asks him out for homecoming, Jaemin starts to think of the world as a brighter and happier place to live in. Perhaps the power of love does exist, he thinks as he continuously pokes his lower lip with his fingers in the midst of classes.

It is so strong that even Cheolmoo, Chungho, and the rest of their friends couldn’t even kill his good mood, no matter how much they tried. He’s literally living the high school dream of going to homecoming with someone he likes. He’s going with _Jeno_ as his date.

Jeno, whom he has relied on for so long, whom he really feels safe with. His constant. Speaking of him, Jaemin recalls their first kiss like a lovesick fool.

It was gentle and warm, slow and a little ticklish, and his lips were so soft that he ended up wanting more when it was over. Thankfully Jeno seemed to notice that he liked the feeling a little too much, and he made their lips lock so much that he lost count.

Jaemin thinks that the last kiss they shared that night was the most memorable; it was heated and desperate, and their lips moved too fast that in between their teeth clashed against each other, and he let Jeno’s tongue explore every corner in his mouth. And even if it was messy, that’s when he really felt the love.

He hopes that they share more nights like that, without having to worry about his parents like now.

“I’m going to my school’s homecoming.” He announces when he returns home an hour before six in the evening, a week after he got asked out. It seems like he isn’t even asking for their blessing to let him go though, but whatever, they don’t give a flying fuck about him until he starts disobeying them. “Letting you know, so I hope you let me have my fun for once.”

His mom, who is letting too many small crucifixes hang around her neck, frowns at the snarkiness behind his voice. The silence coming from her already means she’s saying no, and he honestly thinks that he should have stopped there.

But god does she have such a big mouth. “You’ve had too much fun already.”

_Too much fun, really?_ As much as he wants to pop a vein and make something break in the household to scare them into saying yes, he holds in his rising frustration with a very sweet smile. He isn’t going to let anything ruin his consistent good mood, not even them.

“We’re making these decisions for your own good, you ungrateful child.” His father joins in, and he rolls his eyes at the sternness in his voice. He wants to laugh so hard and spit at their faces. What do they mean by for his own good?

So they mean that by keeping their eyes on every move he makes for most of his life, by being hostile once he stopped wearing the cross, by forcing him to pray the Rosary every six in the evening, by hitting and cursing him for no apparent reason, and by guilt-tripping him for just wanting to live like a normal teenager...is for his own good?

_Absolute bullshit_. He knows they have been trying to build things in their home so that Jeno doesn’t have to climb up the roof anymore, and that they’ve been considering dropping him out of school. They’re making him feel stupid when he knows they’ve been gatekeeping him since he was born.

Jaemin knows he isn’t loved by the people he’s supposed to refer to as family, and he wanted to ask them why before. But now he doesn’t want to hear what they have to say.

“Since when did you really care about me, _dad_?” He scoffs, crossing his arms. “You treat all our neighbors’ pets more like humans than your own son.”

With that, he stomps his way up the stairs, arms still crossed. His pleasant mood from such a good day at school has finally been spoiled, even if he tried not to let that happen. He gets so overwhelmed that tears start to fall from his eyes as he lets his mind do the work in bringing the attic’s ladder down.

If he said that heated conversations with his parents don’t hurt him anymore, then he is just bluffing. Like any other kid his age, he still yearns to have a connection with them somehow. But at this point, he’ll probably grow older having to cut them off.

And just because they said no, doesn’t mean he won’t. Their input never stopped him from doing what he wanted anyway.

*

Knowing that he and his family aren’t in the house where they used to live anymore, Jaemin decides to stop by the place where he grew up. The only change it has gone through is the decaying paint; he can tell that the altars and icons he unfortunately grew up with are still there.

Not that he has grown allergic to them through the years, but he knows that once he’s inside, he’ll crush everything there—including himself. So he spares himself from the misery.

He has the engine off and is just lounging in the backseat, looking up at the sky like before. The only thing that has changed involving him is that he isn’t muttering his wishes to the stars and hoping that they come true.

The wind is getting strong again, and it brushes through his hair as he properly stretches his legs out. He decides to check the time in his phone. It’s already three in the morning, and his fellows have been reaching out to him since he left the motel.

Haechan happens to be the latest texter, asking him: _found him yet?_

_Haven’t seen him_ , he quickly types down and presses send. He nearly adds something else in his message, but thank Satan that he didn’t.

_Will stay here until he shows up._

*

There are a few hours left before homecoming really starts. He tries to act like the huge red X on today’s date on their calendar he saw during breakfast doesn’t bother him, but it does. Still he keeps his cool, as he straightens his thin white blouse then puts on his father’s maroon blazer and his mother’s shining rings, which he shamelessly stole from their shared room.

He knows that they’ve stopped lending him their possessions since long ago, so rather than asking nicely, he’ll just wear them like it’s his. He also uses her makeup too, just a bit of pink blush and a bit of bright red eyeshadow to make his already pretty eyes pop out. He’ll make sure to give it back once the night is over.

With his phone and wallet in one hand, he thinks he’s ready to go. He puts on the loafers he cleaned shortly after breakfast, and climbs down the attic, then walks down the stairs. He is light on his feet as he starts doing gestures with his free hand, planning to open the door with his mind.

Jaemin smiles when the door opens smoothly, glad that his small trick worked. Just as he was going to take a step out of the house to leave to go to Jeno’s home, he hears his dad coming close.

Also, he feels something sharp poking his side. He’s not given time to react, because the unknown object starts to pierce through the blazer’s material, and it’s about to leave a hole on a part of his blouse.

Unable to conceal his fear, he closes the door by swaying his hand to the right. “What are you doing?”

“This has to stop. You’ve become someone else.”

Suddenly, he feels something sprinkling atop his head. The liquid thankfully does not make his skin burn, but when he gets a bit of it on his tongue by accident, his eyes widen now that he knows the substance.

“You’ll get baptised tonight.” He hears his mom declare, and Jaemin sighs in response, letting his hand fall to his side.

“Wasn’t I baptised when I was a baby, _mom_?” There’s an edge in his voice when he refers to her, since he’s gritting his teeth. “Are you going to continue isolating me until your skins rot in your coffins? Is that it?”

“We’re doing this for you—,”

“I mean this respectfully, but just shut the fuck up.” The irises in Jaemin’s eyes morph into the bloodiest shade of red when he turns to face them, and his slightly tan skin starts to pale as he soullessly chuckles at how terrified his fucking parents look.

His father, who still has a death grip on his knife still poking at his side, starts choking. It’s sick, yes, but it’s so satisfying to see him gasp for air, to see the veins in his eyeballs start to show and his neck turning red as it’s being squeezed with his own mind. The grip he had on the knife weakens, so Jaemin makes it float to his face, its sharp edge pointed at his forehead.

“I appreciate the silence.” Jaemin utters, his gaze now shifting to his trembling mother standing tall on a staircase. He wants to do something worse to her, but feeling the ache in his heart on indulging his supposed idea, he doesn’t push through with it. Instead, he settles for letting his mind hold her by the ankles and drag her down the stairs.

Jaemin looks like a kid who just earned his long awaited candy as he hears some of her bones snap. He drags her poor body to the prayer area as he lets his father breathe for a moment, before doing the exact same thing to him.

The sounds filling the household are nothing but pained shrieks and cries for help, and Jaemin’s quiet laughter as he approaches the prayer area, bending their bodies and making them kneel in front of the Virgin Mary and the young Jesus Christ.

Not satisfied with just them kneeling down, he slams their heads against the carpeted floor once. He takes a moment to cackle when they start crying in chorus, all the more pleased with his father’s throaty sobs. Oh, to hear them like this reminds him of the elders he used to see at Church, crying for the Lord like their lives depended on it.

They must have been crying and begging to the Holy Spirit for them to live a little longer, like his parents at this moment. _Pathetic_ , he thinks.

“Now you know how it felt when you first forced me to pray the goddamn Rosary.” He brings out the rosaries from one of the drawers in the area, and throws it at the back of their heads harshly, like what they did to him three years ago. “Maybe if you actually cared about what I felt, I wouldn’t have gone down the wrong path.”

For good measure, he makes their heads slam against the floor one more time, to knock them out.

Jaemin expected to feel like shit upon doing those horrible things to his family, but it actually felt fucking good. He wanted to do more, like start a fire and throw them into it, but he thinks they don’t deserve to be held in the arms of death so quickly. He thinks that they deserve to suffer, to drain them of life before they die.

He thinks that they deserve to rot in hell, probably in the fifth and seventh circles, because that’s where abusers like them go. He thinks that they deserve to be torn apart and be whole again only to be chomped on once more for eternity. Hell, if Dante finds it fitting, they can go to his tenth circle.

Before his mind travels to more hellish depths, he calms himself down. He takes in deep breaths and long exhales, reminding himself that he still has a night to spend happily with Jeno. He immediately feels peace imagining his eyes crinkling since he’s smiling too much, whilst being surrounded with the prettiest flowers.

That particular image stays in his mind as Jaemin leisurely leaves his house, a beautiful grin plastered on his face when he shows up by his front door. Jeno’s clad in a black tuxedo and a pair of penny loafers. What catches his attention though is his maroon bow tie, which is the reason why he stole his father’s blazer, so that they could match.

Maroon’s going to be their color now, he guesses.

“Did you wait too long?” Jeno asks when they’re finally face to face, holding their corsages with one hand and his phone on the other. “Sorry, you must’ve had a long walk.”

Jaemin giggles, his heart soaring when Jeno puts the corsage on for him. “It was a good walk, so it’s okay.”

“S-Shall we go?” Jeno stutters, his cheeks and ears turning red. Just as he was going to say yes, someone rushes out the door, holding a camera.

It was Jeno’s dad, who has a smile as kind as his son’s. He can see where he got his handsome face from. “Let’s take a picture first!” And then his mom comes out the door a few seconds after, holding the car keys and a handkerchief to wipe her tears.

They look like good parents, it’s what he thinks. Jaemin turns to Jeno as the flashes come on, seeing how excited he is about everything. And then he smiles for the camera, genuinely feeling at peace over how kind his family seems to be.

And they are kind. After the picture taking was over, his mom walked over to them and said, “Keep safe, okay?” She was looking at him too, and it may not seem much, but he feels accepted. It may not seem much to some, but it means the world to him.

“We will.” Jaemin answers for the both of them, linking their arms. She nods and then pats both of their heads, before giving Jeno’s dad the car keys.

Maybe, just maybe after this night, he will grow close to his family. He hopes that he does, since they all seem so lovely. No wonder they have such a lovely son, and such a lovely front yard full of the prettiest flowers. Deep down, they’re the parents Jaemin wishes he had.

Jeno shakes him out of his thoughts when he playfully flicks his forehead. “Let’s go, Nana.”

Jaemin quickly snaps out of it, grounding himself by looking into his sparkly eyes, and tightening their linked arms. He nods in agreement with a small smile, and then they get in the family car.

*

What was the point of looking back on memories that continue to leave a big gash on his soul, and staying by places that hold such memories? Has he been numb from hurt so long that he’s starting to seek it?

Or maybe he’s looking back on them because he wanted to take back what he did? Or maybe because he wanted to do something worse?

Jaemin starts to feel a headache. He shouldn’t have indulged the countless what ifs too much, shouldn’t have noticed the stench of a decomposing body and strong cologne that’s stuck to the material of the seats in this convertible.

Sighing, he gets out of the car and leaves it there, letting his feet take him where they desire to go the most. The lamp posts start to disappear from his peripheral vision, the light slowly leaving him as he continues to walk.

He acquaints himself with the darkness again as he walks past a house’s hedges and pushes away the branches that get in his way. There are too many trees that are a few inches taller than him, but he doesn’t hate it having to pass by them.

Where he is going after all, is a place he frequented with him at some point of time in their lives. It was their own Eden, their biggest secret. No one knew of this place but them, but he isn’t so sure about that now.

Jaemin pushes the last huge leaf to the side before his legs are surrounded with the same pretty flowers that haunt his what ifs.

Maybe, just maybe, he will find him here.

*

Jaemin is more than overjoyed to not have missed out on homecoming, because he has never seen the student body this _alive_ and happy about balloons and food and being in the school gymnasium at all.

His peers who often looked like they were bored out of their mind are now the ones letting themselves go to whatever song is coming on. The ones considered the king and queen bees of their school occupy a few tables on the edges of the venue, sitting pretty and probably talking shit about everyone else having fun.

Anyway, that’s not what he is here for. Tonight will be _his_ night in a way, and he’s going to make every moment count, no matter how bizarre this ends. He’s going to let go of all the worries that continue to tense his shoulders for now, and he will make room for all of the fun and surely spiked punch instead.

That could be hard, considering that his knocked out parents will eventually wake up, but Jeno must have noticed how he has literally gone cold. “You’re starting to look pale.” His hand comes up to push away some of the hair strands blocking his vision.

Him pointing it out adds more to the sudden anxiousness, but he keeps it cool, deciding to just tell him, “Maybe it’s because the lights on top of the ceiling are pretty bright.”

Jeno considers it for a bit, looking up as they walk around the gym and swing their interlocked hands. The bass is boosting in every corner the farther they are from the wide doors they passed through, so Jaemin had to feel his lips touching his ear to hear him. “You’re right.”

_Shivers_. That’s what he just felt, and when he thought that his mouth would only get in contact with his own, well he was dead wrong. Jaemin feels the hairs on his nape start to rise, but he doesn’t tell him about it.

Because as soon as they get near the area where the caterers are, his pupils blow out at the sight of all the food he doesn’t get to eat much, like lasagna and affogato. He feels his stomach rumbling, but he tells himself that he can have a lot of them later.

Jaemin grins upon seeing the set of balloons that are held close at the gym’s ceiling and the rotating lights giving the shining disco ball effect, then looks at all the people dancing right at the center, not caring if they’re wearing dresses and tuxes that heavily restrict their movements. In that moment, he wonders if anything in his heavily sheltered life gets better than this.

“Wanna dance?” Jeno asks, and Jaemin can feel himself being looked at like he’s the center of his universe, which he admittedly likes.

“Hell yeah,” He answers, and then they start walking towards where everyone’s laughing and gyrating, fingers interlocked tighter than ever.

See, Jaemin is not sure if he can consider himself a good dancer, but he can move his limbs well without coming off and feeling stiff. So with the little amount of confidence he has, he starts to move his arms and legs in the way he has seen the cheerleaders dance during pep rallies in the cafeteria. He isn’t sure if he’s doing it right, but whatever.

The music changes to something catchier and faster, to the point that the melody and rhythm is hallucinating. By then, they’re still dancing lightly, since they don’t wanna make a fool of themselves while having fun. After all, they can tell the popular kids are starting to make fun of every individual on the dance floor.

But it just takes a sudden arm looping around his waist, and an inviting gaze from Jeno, to stop giving a damn about anything else. And that’s when Jaemin rides along with the music and with him. That is where everything good for him finally starts.

As he starts to put himself out there with bigger movements and the biggest grin that it makes his cheeks hurt, he wonders if anything can get better than this. He can’t believe he has a sight of Jeno at his happiest too, eyes crinkling and dancing more freely than him.

He looks like an angel sent down from heaven; he only lacks the silk wrapping his body, a pair of wings on his broad back, and an almost invisible halo above his head. Jaemin personally thinks that if he truly was what he appears to be, he’d be the only heavenly being he’d love, adore, venerate, and worship forever.

The darkest side of his brain thinks that he’s someone he’d love to corrupt so much his wings would turn black, but that’s not what occupies his mind as Jeno spins him around, and as he catches him in the moments he stumbles on his own foot or nearly trips on air.

He has not thought too much about it ever since his parents started hurting him, but through the years, he has lost touch of what love is. For most of his life, he thought that he would find love in God, and in the various forms of prayers he had to memorize. He thought that all forms of love were related to Him, and in Him he thought that he’d have a grasp of what it is.

Truthfully he has not reached full understanding of it yet, but when he looks at Jeno, he thinks that maybe love just means starting with what he knows and learning as he goes. Maybe love doesn’t need to be memorized and rehearsed at all times. Maybe love doesn’t mean having to always be at your best.

Most of all, maybe love just means knowing that he’ll always have him around, without a doubt. And that’s what Jeno makes him feel.

Who knows how many songs they have danced through, but Jaemin notices the rhythm of the one currently playing is slower. Many of the ones with them have left, occupying tables to rest for a bit. The ones here with them though are holding onto their respective dates, just swaying their bodies and all.

It’s hard for him to try toning down his energy, to come down from a high that nearly felt like it could go on forever, but he tries. Jaemin seems to be hugging him as they start swaying, and to have him this close doesn’t give him the shivers like earlier. Being able to hear his calming heartbeat is enough.

Of course, Jeno holds him close when he lets himself melt onto him.

He holds him like that too when he straddles his lap later on in one of the restroom stalls, away from the eyes of their peers in the gym. The restroom is completely empty, they made sure about that, and they haven’t done anything yet but Jaemin feels the same kind of shiver from earlier.

Jaemin cannot recall who suggested the idea of kissing someplace quiet first, but here they are. Not quite romantic like he thought it would be, but he isn’t going to whine about it. He goes for it, surprising Jeno.

“Kiss me.”

And he does. He devours his mouth like they haven’t seen each other in centuries. He is being touched everywhere like this is going to be the last time. It’s as if he is being _worshipped_ , and Jaemin revels in that feeling as he returns the favor, wiggling around and getting a little too comfortable on his lap.

A while ago, he asked himself if anything was going to get better than them dancing under the rotating lights. Now he has found the answer to this question; there is something better, and _this_ is an out of body, religious experience.

When they pull away after sucking each other’s tongues, Jaemin is hit with an idea, and he wants to try it this instant. So he starts with leaving a messy kiss on his cheek, and an even messier one somewhere on his neck. His hand that’s not busy making his tux wrinkle travels south, until he gently tugs on his belt.

He gets his expected response: a soft gasp against his ear, and the tightening grip on his thighs. Jaemin smirks a little, knowing that he’s got Jeno fully wrapped around his finger. Perhaps they can take it a step further here.

Maybe, his mouth won’t just be filled with saliva and tongue.

“Nana, wait.” He hears Jeno breathe out but he lets it pass through his ears, both of his hands ready to unbuckle his belt. “Wait, no. Nana _don’t_.”

Even as Jeno holds his hands to stop him, it doesn’t feel rough and cause him to wince. It’s as if Jaemin has been conditioned to expect bruising grips by anyone and endure it, since that’s what it is like back at his house.

But he ends up learning now that it should not be like that, at all.

“I’d rather not do it here. Sorry about that.” Jeno smiles up at him apologetically, really looking guilty as he makes Jaemin remove his hands on his belt.

And he shouldn’t feel sorry for rejecting his advances, Jaemin knows. “ _I_ should be sorry. I thought too far ahead,” He mumbles, mind still on the fact that the whole time he has not been held roughly.

Jeno has always shown to know his boundaries and he has never been rough with him, and he feels pretty stupid for this, but it’s just sinking in now. Jaemin has stopped feeling respected by the people he should consider family when he was fourteen, and he thought that it would always stay that way.

It is through these little things that Jeno helps him unlearn what he thought love was.

“Hey Jaemin.” He looks up from his hands over his own. He doesn’t know what kind of expression he has on now, but he feels like he’s going to fall apart under his fond gaze. “I still love you, don’t worry.”

Just like that, another thing starts to make sense. His mind is boggled with too many thoughts to figure what it exactly is, but it makes his heart sting in a pleasant way. “I still love you too.” The vulnerability shows in the slightest crack of his voice but Jeno must have not noticed it, because he presses a chaste kiss on his lips.

“Let’s go back.”

*

Indeed, he finds himself back to where it all started.

There seems to be more flowers than before. He passes through them carefully, since he notices that he is ridding the objects from blooming completely, probably due to the amount of demonic energy in his body. He unfortunately cannot protect them all from himself, because he watches some dry up and weaken, until they finally wither.

He makes the healthy grass die too, with just his footsteps. Jaemin frowns and clenches his fists, feeling guilt bubble up his chest and eventually, his throat. Whoever is in charge of taking care of this meadow has to do a lot of work when they get back.

When he was younger, he walked through such pretty things without harming them. Now, he brings sin, chaos, and destruction wherever he goes. It’s natural for anything and anyone to die with or without his command. To be frank, he hates it more than he loves it.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes to a flower he picked that died in his hands.

_And if I don’t?_

_Too bad then._

The dread that he has been trying to suppress comes back at him stronger than ever, the more pessimistic probability becoming all the more realistic. What if...what if he does meet him and in a way he drains the life out of him? Of course, Jaemin can’t let that happen.

What if he just stops looking for him and leaves for the good of the both of them?

Right as he considers the idea, the wind that hits his back has the same impact to that of a tornado. He almost falls to the ground, but he keeps himself steady, letting the dead flower fall by his shoes.

*

The venue is still pretty when they get back, and who would’ve thought they were in for their biggest shock of the night? Certainly, not them.

Jaemin does not register the voice of the person standing on stage with the slip of paper, but he hears it loud and clear. “Congratulations to the best dressed of the night!” They exclaim with the right amount of enthusiasm, and one of the rotating lights turns to the both of them.

First of all, how are they the best dressed of the night? They are just wearing maroon and black in their suits, and he’s wearing red on his eyelids. They didn’t really try too hard to look good like the rest, and yet they won. Jaemin feels that something is clearly _wrong_ here; his stomach feels more hollow than before.

However, Jeno looks so happy and unaware, and then he takes it back. _I shouldn’t be so wary_ , he tells himself before they walk to the stage, their arms linked. Everyone is clapping for them, and they look quite sincere about it, but Jaemin cannot seem to shake the dread off.

After all, high school feels like a warzone most of the time. It’s an escape room, and the mission is to find out who is the most two-faced douchebag among your schoolmates. But maybe not tonight.

They are given their plastic crowns that are only painted to look like it’s metal. They don’t look grander than the ones that will be awarded as the homecoming king and queen, but it still has a charm. They’re then helped on putting on silky sashes that have their award written on it. Jaemin awkwardly smiles for the camera and on the other hand, Jeno smiles for every single lens directed at them.

It is when they get off the stage that Jaemin stops looking like he is blissfully unaware. Everything seems too well, and that is what’s unsettling him. If this were a horror movie, it just feels like they’re minutes away from a jumpscare. But thanks to his otherworldly senses, he gets a hunch.

From above, he can hear something heavy and full of substance waiting to be thrown at them, or at anyone. Who knows really, but his gentle eyes harden now that he is aware.

“Is there something wrong?”

He quickly brushes it off with a smile, to a still unaware Jeno. “If they’re going to make us dance, then I’m not going to.”

Dear God, he hopes Jeno gets a clue. He doesn’t want them to do anything to him too. He doesn’t want him to be at the receiving end of one’s malicious antics. “Okay,” He replies with a squeeze of their hands, but it doesn’t make Jaemin’s heart rest.

Time goes by so fast. In a few eye blinks, the homecoming king and queen are already coming down the stage, ready to do their first dance. It’s highly unlikely that they are the targets since they’re seniors, and they all know better than to mess with them.

Jaemin hates to say it, but he has to. “Let’s get out of here.”

Jeno’s surprised to know that those words come from him, out of all people. “What?”

“Something’s off.” Jaemin explains briefly, hearing the same substance flow back and forth in both of his ears, the sound not sitting well with him. He starts to feel eyes trained on the both of them, so he pulls Jeno with him as he gets to the door in quick strides.

From what he can feel, it seems like Jeno is trying to pull away, but he has no time for explaining. Not when Cheolmoo gets up to the stage with a microphone, and the smirk on his face screams far from innocent. Jaemin still doesn’t stop walking, but they get cornered by his friends.

“Shouldn’t the best dressed couple have a dance too?”

Ah, if only he can use his mind now to keep that goddamned mouth shut. Jaemin’s jaw tightens, and slowly turns around to face the crowd. He makes sure Jeno gets behind him, purposefully letting his assurances of _don’t mind him_ fade alongside the background noise.

Everyone has their eyes on the both of them, pressuring them to dance. He tries his best not to give in to the rage that’s starting to course through his veins, inhaling and exhaling for good measure. He then glares at Cheolmoo, who looks triumphant since he’s making them stay around.

No one’s really letting them have fun? Okay then, he will let this slide.

“We’ll be,” He answers his question with a fiery glare as he casually walks to the center, with Jeno still behind him.

He tries to look composed in front of everyone, even as he realizes that he is the target just by seeing some of their schoolmates bring out their cellphones. He still puts up a charming smile as he arranges the crown atop his head, even if his eyes indicate that he’s so close to committing murder.

When they get to the center, Jaemin hears the substance more. He doesn’t let the panic he’s feeling show on his face as he lets Jeno hold him again like the waltzing they did earlier.

_I just have to push Jeno away once it falls_ , Jaemin tells himself as suppressed laughter begins to fill his ears. He tries to match up to Jeno’s rhythm, no longer immersing himself in the song being played by the DJ.

The liquid seems to be rocking back and forth a lot. It’s like someone keeps pushing it like some swing, to test how much of it will fall. Jaemin then starts to keep his distance, waltzing with Jeno at an arm’s length.

_Sorry_. It’s what is conveyed in Jeno’s glassy eyes, and even if he looks distressed, his beauty shines. And Jaemin gets distracted, almost.

Giggles are louder than ever, and the substance sounds like it’s about to fall off soon. Suddenly everything goes silent, for him. At first he thought it only got really quiet because the music was turned off, but it’s when he looks at Jeno screaming, does he realize that he shut all noises out.

Jaemin looks up quickly, and sees a dark red liquid. It smelled like it came from a very dirty place, and when it fills his nostrils, he grimaces. He pushes Jeno away, and everything is still so quiet. He can only feel the liquid all over him, but he couldn’t hear the splash and its stickiness.

He feels the liquid touch his eyelashes, and the tip of his nose, and a drop of it ending on his lower lip. He could almost taste it. It sticks to his hands, his sash, and his father’s blazer. It stains the rings and plastic crown he is wearing, and the loafers he cleaned until it shone. It stains his skin, and the ickiness of it makes his face start to itch.

Jaemin then realizes the liquid is pig’s blood. He doesn’t know where they got it from, but not that he needs to anyways. He has his head downcast, and he tries to shake it off his hands, but it _sticks_. He has to take a warm bath to get this off of his body, and he seems to need it right now.

Others have plans of their own, as he starts hearing whatever is surrounding him. All that he can register is gasps and hearty laughter that makes him feel like absolute shit. He does not want to look up, knowing that Chungho, who helped in orchestrating this fucking plan has their phone right at his fucking face.

Dear God, he’s trying to keep his cool but they’re making it harder for him.

Chungho gets closer, and it’s as if they’re spitting at his bloodstained face. “How does it feel to have blood all around you, you freak?” He asks, and he knows that the last word is supposed to be an insult, but why does it make him feel good?

_**Because you are**_ , a voice in his head responds. Said voice sounds much kinder and sweeter than the man he calls his father. _**I’ve been waiting for you**_ **.** The warmth in his tone makes it feel like a very warm hug, and it makes Jaemin want to fall into their embrace completely.

_Who are you?_ Jaemin asks them, still wary. He quickly mouths it while more phones try to film the state he is in, but he pays no mind to them. He wants to know who’s the person in his head.

His head then goes silent, and he’s forced to return to reality. He can hear Jeno telling them to stop, until he doesn’t, and all he can hear is him screaming. It makes the sirens go off in his head, makes the small fire inside him get bigger and blue and violent.

It makes him immediately look up from his now dirty loafers, and right into Chungho’s eyes.

_**If you set him on fire, you’ll know**_ **.** Jaemin smirks like whatever occurred before this did not happen, and places a bloody hand on his robin’s egg blue tuxedo. He looks at his hand that gets slowly enveloped by fire that doesn’t burn him, but rather their suit.

What follows next happens fast, but it makes him smile so wide, watching Chungho burn under a hellish flame that just came from his hand. Not wanting the pretty sight to end, he prevents them from getting a fire extinguisher to put it out.

He prevents all of them from getting out of the gym, slamming the doors to a close. He prevents people from trying to land a finger on Jeno, setting them on fire too.

There are seven flames now running aimlessly around the gym, and it’s so amusing. Jaemin notices the looks of fear coming from the ones who only watched the entire thing happen, so he scares them even more by throwing every single hanging object around. That includes the rotating lights he loved so much; he kills Cheolmoo by smashing his head with it.

By now, the screams have intensified, and everything around him just looks so entertaining. There’s nothing funnier than pathetic people running for their pathetic lives, it just goes to show how they’re all wusses deep down.

For his amusement, he makes the remaining wide light bulbs in the venue burst, making the ones still unharmed cry for help.

_I’ve done what you wanted. May I know who you are?_ Jaemin says as he makes everything in the gym jumble around, therefore making the fire spread. He grins when he sees people lying around, knowing that they’re dying. Jeno is the only one he kept out of danger, surrounded by a circle of fire he can’t get out of.

The voice in his head pauses, as if contemplating. Jaemin then gets his answer.

_**I’m God’s greatest enemy, but most of all, I conceived you.** _

Jaemin asks another question. _Then who am I?_

_**Trust in me, son. You will know soon.** _

If he talked to God and He told him those words, he would’ve not believed Him at all. Jaemin would have questioned Him so much that He would be left with no choice but to take back his place in His Kingdom. All his life, he thought that he’d only find this otherworldly kind of comfort in Jeno.

This voice is something he can easily confide in.

However, he gets back to reality, and he sees the whole gym wrecked. Right in front of him is a very exhausted Jeno, who has managed to save himself from the fire that has consumed the whole gym, and Jaemin immediately gets a hold of him.

“Jaeminnie, we have to get you out of here.”

Right as he is going to nod in response and let him get dragged out by the hand, he hears dozens of quick footsteps by the doors. He can hear the hushed whispers of two or three men telling them to wait for his signal, alongside the sounds of machines being reloaded. Whatever it is, it isn’t a good sign.

His feet were still set to stay on where he was standing, but before the doors could open, Jeno drags him out through the backstage. There was a door they could go through to get out, and by then Jaemin slowly started to lose touch of _everything_. It feels like he’s stuck in the thin line between reality and another realm, as they go to who knows where in the town.

Gradually, he starts detaching himself from that thin line and leans into what he settles for calling the afterlife, even if he isn’t dead. The conversation with that voice continues from there, as Jaemin starts to seek more comfort in it.

_I’m afraid._

_**What are you afraid of, Jaemin?** _

_I have a long list of fears._

_**It’s okay to be afraid of many things, my child.** _

The tips of Jaemin’s fingers start to feel something close to that of a spark. He can tell that it is fire, but he’s not too sure if it’s too hot that it can burn his skin or if it’s just enough to keep him warm in the cold night. All that he can sense from his surroundings is that it’s warm.

_I’ve done pretty bad things tonight. They’re going to haunt me for the rest of my life._

People that get in his way start to scream. Jaemin silences them, not liking the noise.

_**Everyone else does something bad, it’s okay.** _

He was feeling Jeno’s hand a while ago, but along the way, he didn’t feel his presence anymore. He then makes the ground shake.

_No, it’s not okay. I’ve killed people...because I was angry. That’s not what I’m supposed to do._

Gunshots, and sounds of metal scraping the concrete. Vehicles getting dented. People being impaled and coughing out blood. Lamp posts are falling sideways.

_**But they provoked you to, they brought it upon themselves.** _

He feels something hard hit his hip. He makes whatever object it was float, and then he crumples it, hearing skin and bone snap.

_It shouldn’t be like that. I can’t kill someone of my own kind._

An explosion occurs behind him, and then a bullet gets to hit his leg. It makes him limp, but not for long. He walks properly in less than five minutes. Screams are heard again, but they don’t sound scared. They sound furious and vengeful.

_**You’re anything but human, my child.** _

Jaemin falls back into reality, and what he is met with is nothing but destruction. There’s a trail of the brightest blue fire behind him, and the road he’s on is now bumpy and full of cracks, as if an earthquake had occurred. He starts to question if it’s his doing, but judging from the people running over ready to attack him, it probably is.

And Jeno’s nowhere to be found. Where could he be? He turns around, only to see that he is standing by the open doors of their town’s parish, a gigantic sculpture of a crucified Jesus Christ inside looking into his soul.

By then, he starts to move forward with trembling knees, close to kneeling on the ground. He fails to notice just what kind of being he has become, the texture of his skin, the color of his eyes, the bull’s horns and his nails growing indicating that he is human no more.

_Am I what I think I am?_

He continues to move forward, the trail of fire by his feet spreading through the floors of the church. Jaemin starts to feel his head hurt, so he takes off the broken crown and lets it drop to the once pristine floor. He looks around to see the priests holding up their Bibles and saying their prayers in Latin.

_**You are what you think you are.** _

“Begone, demon!” They shout as they hold up their crosses and pray louder, and the sick joy he felt back in school then sinks into nothing but remorse that eats his soul, until it becomes self-loathing and he gets down on his knees crying his heart out for whoever was going to reach out to him.

His pained cries get ignored as the priests with their crosses get closer, probably planning to exorcise him. He momentarily looks back at Jesus, only to be pitifully looked back at, like how another parent in the neighborhood would look at misguided children.

It makes him feel like a waste of space, as if he is someone who shouldn’t exist. It makes him think that death is the easiest way out of everything.

Said thought intensifies when he hears familiar voices praying with the priests. His parents, who are supposed to take him into their arms and protect him. His parents, who made him feel like an outcast before all of this started.

His parents, although evil in their own way, still cares about as much as he detests them.

_Do they still love me?_

Jaemin tries to look for it in their eyes.

_**They never did.** _

As Jaemin starts to feel their prayers working, that he can feel himself dematerialize, he turns to his parents. Deciding to not fully trust the voice yet, he tries again to look for love in their eyes. He tries so hard to see if he can redeem himself to them, and if they can do the same for him. He tries to see if he can make things go back to the way they were before.

But there are only fires raging on in their orbs, huge and bright enough to swallow a whole forest with its heat. By then, Jaemin settles to push aside whatever love he has aside, and holds them by their wrinkly throats. He does what he should have done before he left.

A pair of necks snap, and what follows are collective gasps of horror. The priests start to move away from him, with their crosses still held high. After that, a pipe is thrown from behind him just as he gets to stand tall, and it impales him. He feels the metal get past the tissues and the veins. It stabs him terribly that he coughs out huge amounts of blood.

He isn’t spared time to adjust to the pain of it because bullets start to hit his shoulders, collarbones, his right cheek, and his wrist. His blood dirties the floor of the church, but it’s not like all of these mattered.

Jaemin starts to cry again, but it’s more painful to hear. He cries like a newborn baby as he grips the pipe that impaled him, trying to reach for his parents whom he killed.

For once, he shows to everyone waiting to kill him outside the church that he isn’t just a demon with crazy bloodlust and a want for destruction. He shows the side of him that is truly lonely, and yet to come to terms with the fact that he has never truly belonged, and he never will.

Behind the crowd, he sees a fire that could swallow them all. That’s _his_ doing. He might have killed Jeno along the way too. He must have killed the one he really loved with his all. Now everyone wants him dead, himself included.

And just as he was going to accept it all, just as he was going to let the church crumble on him, someone screams his name.

Jeno then shows up in his line of vision, squeezing himself past the crowd and running, sweat and ash etched on his face and tuxedo. Just from how his kind, soft eyes are wide open and appearing panicked now, Jaemin can see that he is very much alive.

If only he wasn't in his position now, he would have ran to him freely. If only he wasn’t so carried away by his emotions and the constant drifting from reality, they wouldn’t be facing each other like this. If only he didn’t kill most of their schoolmates in the gymnasium—

“Let go of me! _Nana_!”

The entire infrastructure starts to crumble. The sculpture of a crucified Jesus Christ breaks into pieces. The floor starts to crack, smashing portions of it against each other or dividing completely.

Jaemin can feel brittle rocks fall like hail on his head, and it’s most likely that the place where he’s standing will give in to the earthquake's intensity, making him fall and breaking his legs with the concrete. Despite the danger he has put himself in by tearing the church apart, Jeno still runs to him, trying to remove the pipe once they’re close enough.

“Nana come on, let’s go home.” That’s the first time he sees Jeno shed tears in his entire life, trying to stand straight even if the ground they’re on is about to break. “Let’s go home.”

_Home?_ Is there even a home waiting for him when this all ends? He doesn’t think so. “ _You_ go home,” He tells Jeno with a pained smile, blood starting to flow from his nostrils.

Brittle rocks became pebbles, and pebbles became rocks that are hard enough to knock any of them unconscious. Jeno tries to grab him, but Jaemin stretches his arm out, taking control of his body with his mind.

Jeno tries to resist the hold he has on him, all with shock written through his face, but to no avail. Jaemin gently pushes him out, farther and farther, until he can’t see him anymore with his vision blurred with heavy tears. He only lets go when rocks hit his hand, and he retracts his arm, continuing on letting the church crumble upon him.

He is very much aware of what he is doing; he is killing himself, and he can feel that he’s getting closer to the hold of death when the boulders close in around him, either trying to squash him or asphyxiate him. Yet as he tries to end his life, he looks for Jeno’s pulse in the crowd still waiting to see him perish.

When he starts to feel his heartbeat, he makes a promise.

And just as he can say more, he loses life. Maybe because his neck got snapped, or it was too hard to breathe, or maybe his heart just wanted to stop beating.

Then the crowd rejoices over his demise, proving to Satan that they’re just as wicked...and he laughs at how pathetic they look, screaming victoriously about watching one of his children perish like they’re spreading the Good News. They’re hopeless really, God’s creations.

But his invisible frame looms over a mourning Jeno, who is looking at his hands so hopelessly while everyone starts to sing about how God’s grace was on their side today. Satan sighs, and goes with the flow of the autumn air as he returns to the place below the ground.

*

Jaemin doesn’t know when the strong wind stops coming his way, but it is so strong that it can make his figure hit a tree, _hard_. But he’s able to stay where he is, making the strongest vines grow from the ground and wrap themselves up to his calves.

“Stop making a tornado, fucking hell.” Jaemin curses under his breath, feeling the vines start to tear itself apart from the ground. He murmurs a few more vulgar words before noticing the changes in the flowers, how they looked like they were dying before and now, they looked like they were ready to flourish again.

It makes him raise an eyebrow in suspicion, then he wonders what kind of force he is dealing with right now. If it happens to be one of those self-proclaimed demon slayers that will soon be exterminated with his elemental abilities, he will be very disappointed.

He hopes that whoever he has to fight tonight while waiting for him, gives him a bit of a challenge.

Eventually, the force stops trying to make him lose his footing. As soon as Jaemin turns around, he puts his psychokinesis to use, stretching his arm out to hold whoever it was by the throat.

But who he sees makes him hold his breath and makes him not move again, slowly letting his arm fall to his side as he opens his mouth.

He tries to find the words to say. In the end he only gets to swallow the lump down his throat, his knees buckling when he meets his glimmering eyes.

Still, he tries to talk, even if he can’t hear his own voice. The natural breeze passes them by when he takes a few steps forward to close the distance, making the flowers he unconsciously withered grow again. He plasters the same look that’s on Jaemin’s face, but the only difference is that he’s smiling as bright as forever ago, letting out a few sighs of relief.

Jaemin digs his nails into his palms, still not knowing where to start. He feels the perpetual raging fire inside of him calm, as he questions if everything is real, or if he has finally gotten a hang of Haechan’s special demonic ability.

“ _Nana_.”

He sounds real, so real that it almost sounds like something from the many dreams he had of him. Jaemin bites his lower lip, contemplating if he should grab onto the material of his clothes to check if he’s really here.

But he doesn’t want to break so easily over a possible figment of his imagination.

With caution, he asks, “Are you real?”

The once natural raven black hair he had is now dyed into the most magnificent shade of red, and they’re long enough to slightly cover his eyes. The edges of his face look sharper now, chiseled to perfection, making him look almost godly. His shoulders have gotten broader, his torso looks leaner, and he looks all the more unreal.

Jaemin is so close to crying. This setup is something he knows all too well, something he had mourned over before for it didn’t last too long. All he can end up doing is _look_ because he knows that if he dares to get a hold of him, he’ll disappear.

“It’s me.” He responds with a blinding grin that often softened his heart. Jaemin tries his best to hold in his tears. “Are _you_ real?” Though certainty is written all over his face, his doubt shows in the question.

“This must be a dream,” Jaemin murmurs as he finally gathers the guts to have a hold of him. He raises both of his hands from his sides, opting for clutching onto the fit shirt he has on.

Instead, his hands are what he holds. The nearly forgotten warmth from his palms calms him down, like always. He looks up from their slowly interlocking fingers, expecting that he’ll vanish in the blink of an eye.

However, he doesn’t. He does not dissolve, he does not lose his warmth and his smile. He _stays_ this time, but Jaemin can’t be too sure about this. What if he disappears upon uttering his name?

“Jaemin…” He tightens his grip, taking a small step forward until all they can see from each other are their faces, and the tears brimming in the corners of Jaemin’s wide eyes. “It’s really me.”

“ _Jeno_.” Even saying his name scares him. He has lived most of his life getting accustomed to not having the nicest things, often settling for wishful thinking. He’s already bracing himself for the inevitable heartbreak, blinking his eyes once or twice.

Yet Jeno is still there.

“Hey.” Jaemin hears the loss of stability in his voice, and sees Jeno’s lips quiver when he touches his face. “It’s been so long…”

Jeno’s arms then pull him in close for an embrace, and if his ears serve him right, he can hear him trying not to sob into his clothes. Nonetheless, Jaemin holds onto him as tight as he could, still yet to register the fact that he is here and real.

And the field of flowers that was about to wither due to the sadness Jaemin carried in his heart for so long, started to look as pretty as how _they_ remembered it. The roses were at their reddest, the sunflowers seemed to be glittering, and the moon gave them all their attention.

The moonlight enhances Jeno’s beauty; it’s as if he never aged. His orbs looked like it had a utopia of its own in them from how it shines, and even as he is teary-eyed he is still so pretty. So pretty that it makes Jaemin think he doesn’t deserve to be within his presence.

Shaky sighs leave his mouth when he realizes that he has been staring too long, that he has been holding onto him for too long. He can’t help but ask himself: _where do they go from here?_

It feels like something bad is waiting to show itself in the meadow’s dark corners. It feels like God’s waiting for the perfect moment to take this away from him, just as he finally gets to see him.

“How did you survive that night?” Jeno asks, like the question’s something taboo. “I thought I lost you.”

And at that time, Jaemin already made peace with dying. He thought at that moment that he was never going to breathe ever again, that he would cease to exist. He thought that embracing death and his soul staying in one of Dante’s circles was better than staying alive.

He could no longer remember where he ended up, and who found him after that. Those memories were just blurry for him, as if he was a newborn child. “I can’t die.” That’s what Satan told him when he regained his full consciousness, and that is all he knows.

But as much as immortality is still a curse that he has to live with, it’s somehow a blessing. Now that he has lived long enough to see Jeno like this again. For the first time in what feels like forever, Jaemin smiles so hard his cheeks hurt.

“And I promised something,” Jaemin adds, leaning onto Jeno’s palm when he caresses his cheek. “So I’m here.”

His eyes then look away from his beautiful face to his smooth forearms. The protruding veins showing in his skin are painted with what seem to be tattoos, and just as he was going to voice out his admiration, there is a symbol.

A particular symbol that he has seen through the past six years, something he’s too familiar with. It can be seen anywhere on their bodies, and when he sees a glowing tattoo of a disk drawn near his wrist, he reacts the way he usually does.

The sirens go off in his head, his heart starts to race out of panic. Usually, the fire in him would worsen and he’d do the worst of things out of impulse, like forming tornadoes so huge it’ll end up on the local news.

He stops leaning into his touch, continues staring at the symbol while he feels his racing heart drop to his stomach.

Is he the reason behind the strong force of wind not long ago? Is it because of his wings?

“A halo.”

Jaemin called it. There was just some other thing waiting in the corner to ruin his happiness for him. He doesn’t try his best to conceal the disappointment in his face when he turns to look at his face, and he connects all the dots.

The inherent kindness he carries in his very being ever since. The angelic features he has, back from when they were kids. It has been 6 years since he last saw Jeno's face, and he expected many things to happen, but not _this_.

And yet, he isn’t so surprised. It would have been shocking if he wasn’t one at all. But why did it have to be in this life, of all the lives they might share?

He must have sensed the weariness, but he still tries to be close to Jaemin. “Does it bother you?”

His brain creates a supercut of the times he has killed people that are like Jeno, with the absence of remorse and his mind just filled with _rage_ that Satan instilled in him. He then feels guilty, looking back at the horrible things he did, but he can feel pain the most.

It hurts to acknowledge it, but it is what it is. He can’t just return to the rest with Jeno, he doesn’t want to get him hurt. If he has to keep his distance for the sake of his safety, then he’ll do it.

Haechan did it before. He had a fling with someone only to find out they were an angel months later, just as he found himself falling for them. He cut it off before his feelings deepened, for their sakes. If he did it, then Jaemin can do it too.

But it is going to be a challenge. He is accustomed to the fact that between them, he’s always the one leaving. He thought that this time, they could finally be together.

Well, probably in another life. Just not in this one. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt though.

“How,” Jaemin attempts to form a question. He still can’t wrap his head around it. “Why.” He attempts to hide the sadness in his voice, but it fails completely, since tears are starting to well up. The fire in him then dies out; all that’s left is just pitch black. Bleakness and the loss of hope is what is in his system.

“Does it bother you?” Jeno asks again.

“Not in a way that I have to kill you because you’re against my purpose.” Jaemin answers quickly, feeling the fire in him trying to ignite on its own now that there’s an _angel_ within close proximity. “We know how this will go, Jeno. It’s not. We _can’t_.”

Jeno still appears to be determined though, as his brown eyes start to shine like it’s the purest gold. “I know, but that’s not gonna stop me.”

He looks at him like he just said something blasphemous, like he was a heretic that took God’s Words out of context.

“I lost you once.” Six years of grieving and yearning makes Jeno’s words incredibly heavy, but it feels like he’s speaking for the both of them. “I’d be stupid if I lose you again over a feud between Heaven and Hell.”

Although his words are comforting in a way that it is what he wants to hear, at the back of his mind, he knows that this isn’t going to please Satan. For six years, he has done everything that he wanted and to disappoint him will be the biggest felony he’ll ever commit. On the other hand, Jeno will no longer have God’s grace when they get together; he’ll lose his place in Heaven.

They will have so much to lose.

But Jaemin would rather lose everything else than lose Jeno for the second time.

He has always bent the rules or never followed them when things never went his way, so it’s no surprise that that is what he does again as he closes the distance between their faces, pressing their lips together and feeling himself _burn_. It greatly reminds him of the cross he wore when he was younger, but it’s a kind of pain he’d take this time.

Jeno wraps his arms around his waist and pulls him closer, and kisses him so gently that it _hurts_. Being in his arms now makes it feel like everything has come full circle, that he finally has unlocked the door to overwhelming happiness.

Love means many things, yes. But for Jaemin, it is knowing and taking pride in the truth that he’ll always come back to him, and Jeno will do the same without thinking twice. It is defying forces greater than them just to be by each other’s side, even if there’s so much at stake.

They can worry about the inevitable for later. Now, Jaemin just wants to have Jeno all to himself, after so long.

“I love you.” Jaemin whispers against his full lips, meaning each word as if he’s _praying_. “I love you.”

Jeno wears the most blissful smile on his face as he says it back in the same way he did. Jaemin knows that behind those three words, he also asks a question: _will you stay this time?_

He nods, holding him tighter. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time in his twenty-three years of existence, something finally goes his way. For the first time in six years that felt like countless eternities, happiness so great it almost feels pure and divine courses through his unholy veins.

“I love you so much, Nana.”

For the first time, he stays.

**Author's Note:**

> if you're here reading the end notes, I LOVE YOU. for that i will give some fun facts.
> 
> 1\. if you didn't know yet, "light bringer" is one of the translations for lucifer's name in latin. the other one is "morning star," but the first one has a ring to it that fits, which is why the title is like that!  
> 2\. i have left some details out On Purpose. after all, we're only seeing this story in jaemin's eyes.  
> 3\. this fic was birthed when i asked myself after remembering the 2013 film adaptation of carrie, "what if carrie white had a happy ending instead?"
> 
> and writing this fic was really, really fun. it made me get out of my comfort zone, while also reminding me again why i love writing. i hope you leave a kudos and a comment if you do like this hehe. have a great day!
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/piscesnomin) [cc](curiouscat.me/clreamer)


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